Starlit Cauldron
by Flitty
Summary: Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-Without-Magic, had a rather rough summer before his third year at Hogwarts. With a burst of strange power, Harry ends up living two lives at once. How will this affect him, and what is wrong with his magic?
1. Awakening

**I own neither Harry Potter nor MLP. I also don't own a fez, unfortunately.**

* * *

Harry Potter had never been good at magic. He wanted to be, of course, but he simply couldn't get his power to do what he wanted.

It had been two years since he had first gotten that letter, delivered to him by a humongous man named Hagrid. A lot had happened in that time, such as overpowering Quirrel at the end of year one, helping Ron, Neville and Hermione brew Polyjuice Potion in an abandoned girls' bathroom, and fighting a basilisk using the sword of Godric Gryffindor.

One thing stayed the same though; Harry couldn't use magic. He felt it, he just couldn't do anything with it, like it was locked away under his skin.

Madam Pomfrey had told him that he lacked an aura, which meant that his magical core simply couldn't release his energy. If he tried to force it hard enough, his skin would burst, according to her.

She had blamed it on years of obvious neglect, but although she made many attempts, she couldn't stop Harry being forced back to his so-called relatives this year.

Harry had had enough. He was tired of the newly reinstalled bars on the window, tired of not being able to fly (brooms were the only magical item that seemed to work for him), and even tired of the lack of a certain Potions teacher.

Snape had sneered at Harry the first time they had met, and his hostility had doubled when the man found out about Harry's lack of magic.

When Harry shot up to the top of the class, didn't get annoyed by Snape's comments, and payed the most attention in class, Snape had slowly dropped his prejudice, stealthily awarding points to Gryffindor and so on.

When Harry's detention with the Professor turned out to be secret one-to-one sessions, Harry had nearly keeled over.

So now, with nothing to eat, drink or do, Harry missed everything that Hogwarts stood for, and wished with all his heart that his magic would help him find a new place to sleep.

* * *

Dumbledore sat in his office, in the comfy rocking chair that he kept disillusioned. Although it was soothing, rocking back and forth, he didn't want anyone to think he had aged enough to need this stuff.

He didn't need it, he simply... liked it.

A faint whirring sounded in the room, and Dumbledore glanced around to find the source. It wasn't the lie detector, nor the Legilimency ward. It wasn't the magical disturbance tracker, nor the earthquake detector, nor even that strange 'Poke-Man' game that a friend's friend had given him, which he had no clue how to play.

The old man's failing ears took a fair while to zero in on the noise, and it took even longer to finally recognise it.

What had once been a muggle gyroscope, but was now a detector, was spinning in place, so rapidly that it seemed to be standing still. The problem was what that whirring meant.

A Mental Storm had begun.

Nobody knew what a Mental Storm was, but every hundred years or so, one young witch or wizard, with no Occlumency skills, simply vanished off the face of the earth. They reappeared under certain mental circumstances, only to vanish again when these were broken.

The latest case, other than this unknown one, was that of one Rebecca Smyth. When she became angry, she would return to this world, and when she once more became content, she would disappear again. She had never explained where this strange phenomenon had taken her, by the time she died in July, 1980, but as she only returned around every ten years, it was speculated to be a place of wonder and plenty.

Only one thing was known for sure about Mental Storms, and that was that it was impossible for anyone who caused one to learn Mind Magics, thus the name.

So Dumbledore sat, leant over the strange device, which hadn't gone off in thirteen years, and sighed deeply. If the person behind this Storm went to Hogwarts, it was going to be a fun year.

* * *

Harry woke up.

He rubbed the sand out of his eyes, yawning widely, and stretched out on the grass.

Then his eyelids ripped themselves open, disbelieving his own thoughts. Grass? He was on a bed, right?

Apparently not; he was now gaping at a bright sunrise, which shone over the field of green, peeking out over the distant mountains. To his right was a large clump of trees, looking suspiciously like the forbidden forest, and to his left, a curved bridge led to a rather cute little cottage, in the boy's humble opinion, with a roof covered in leaves and several birdhouses.

Harry raised an eyebrow at what seemed to be a red stable door, the top half open but the bottom shut. He made his way over to this strange cottage, and knocked on the door.

Except that he didn't. What he did instead was stand up, then immediately fall backwards and roll over his head to lie dazed on his belly.

It was around this time that he noticed the snout. It wasn't much of one, sure, but there was a distinct blob of grey fur in his sight, around where his nose should have been, so he took it for a snout.

The Boy-Who-Lived closed his eyes and pulled a checklist into his mind's eye, the one that he used every time he was inevitably transfigured by a backfiring spell. He then went through the list, feeling rather than looking for the body parts.

Head, check. Body, check. Legs and arms, check. Hands and feet, sort of check? Fingers and toes, uncheck, he seemed to have hooves. All senses, check. Tail, check. Fur, obviously check. Bipedal, apparently uncheck, what with the hooves. Extra limbs, check, somewhere on his back were wings. All that was left to check were visible things, like eye colour and shape, lightning scar and so on.

Harry was dreading this part, because he still didn't know what he was. After all, what had fur, hooves and wings? Care of Magical Creatures had taught him about Hippogriffs, but they had beaks, not this strange snout.

He slowly struggled to his four hooves, planting them firmly in the soft earth before taking a few steps toward the stream and peering in.

A grey thing stared back at the boy, and he finally noticed something; namely that he didn't have glasses on. He focussed as best he could on the blurred reflection, and managed to pick something up. A grey... horse? Pony? Yes, a grey pony was peering back at him. His snout was short, and almost looked more like a nose. His emerald-green eyes were more rounded than they had been, and Harry liked it better. His messy hair and translated into a pitch-black mane, which he felt suited him much better than the old style. The ears stood straight, and Harry had far too much fun twitching them in random directions. A white lightning bolt stood out over his left eye.

His eyes moved along his slim body to a pair of folded wings, and with a little concentration he fluttered them slightly, enjoying the breeze created. It was like a broom had come pre-built onto his body! Behind those were his back legs, as skinny as the rest of his body, but built for speed just like his old form. At the end of his body was a tail, as dark and shaggy as the mane, and almost reaching the ground.

Having confirmed that his appearance wasn't even as bad as his human one, Harry relaxed his eyes, and finally felt the brunt of his eye strain. Wobbling slightly on his legs, the boy (or colt, he supposed) stumbled towards a cluster of blurred shapes, vaguely reminiscent of buildings.

Walking awkwardly through the village, Harry listened rather than watched for obstacles, using his hoofsteps as makeshift sonar, like he had taught himself after his glasses had shattered. What was surprising was that apparently all ponies here could speak; other hoofsteps could be heard, with voices coming from slightly above each set. Harry heard a pair talking about the latest fashion, and the colt was suddenly self-conscious, being nude and all. He once again focussed his eyesight, and breathed a sigh of relief as he only saw hats and the occasional scarf.

The two that had been chatting were a white pony with curly purple mane and what looked like a horn, who spoke in a posh manner, though Harry found her easily likeable; and a butter-yellow winged pony with a pink mane, who seemed to listen rather than speak.

Harry's thoughts backtracked through the conversation as he remembered something.

He wanted to fit in, not be stared at for some reason beyond his control. Would 'Harry' be too unusual a name around here?

Seemed like it. Every pony seemed to be named to fit their personality or looks, like Rarity, Fluttershy or Rainbow Dash. He would need to come with a new name, and fast.

Harry didn't have many specialties to get his name from. He wasn't good at magic, literature or anything like that, and he didn't want to name himself for his flying ability, as he wasn't sure he could even fly properly. Herbology was a no-go, as he was fairly certain that plants here would be rather... Delicate for his hooves. He was fairly certain that Potions existed here, however, and he always did have a keen sense of right and wrong when it came to ingredients and methods. Harry took his colour into account, too. His mane was black, but it kind of sparkled, even in the shadows, like tiny stars.

The newly named Starlit Cauldron manoeuvred himself blindly towards the pair of white and yellow ponies, and called out for them.

"Excuse me, please could you point me over to a place that sells glasses?"

Rarity spoke up first, with Fluttershy scooting behind her and peering through that pink hair. "Of course, dear, that would be the Carousel Boutique, and I just so happen to be the owner! As you don't seem to have any glasses at this point in time, I'll accompany you and fix you up a pair right away!"

And thus, Starlit was forcefully dragged towards an exceptionally pink building and made to wear many, many outfits. Around halfway through, Rarity let out a shriek, and the tape measure floating next to the colt suddenly dropped to the floor.

"Dear me, you're still a blank-flank! Whatever shall I do? I simply can't make an outfit to go with just grey and black! I need a bit of colour for this to work!"

Harry, or Starlit now, was fairly confused, so he tried to play the part of a foreigner. Which he technically was, so that wasn't too difficult. "Excuse me, but did you call me a blank-flank? What would that mean? I'm not exactly from around here."

Rarity gasped dramatically. "Oh my, you don't know? A blank-flank is somepony who doesn't have a cutie mark yet! And if you're wondering, a cutie mark is a design that appears on your flank when you find your special talent!" She turned slightly, revealing a pattern of three diamonds. "For example, mine appeared when I used gems in one of my... earlier masterpieces."

Starlit nodded thoughtfully, then grinned. "So I suppose my talent isn't Potion-making, then... Wonder what it'll be?"

Rarity bobbed her head distractedly, already pulling out a metric tonne of hats from various chests with her magic. "Now which one would work..?"

The grey colt's eyes wandered over the many hats, then came to rest over an intriguing design. He bounded up to it while the mare's back was turned, and pulled it onto his head with no small amount of difficulty. He looked in a mirror, beamed at his reflection, then asked, "What about this one?"

Rarity swung over to see the hat, then snorted. "My dear, that's a fez." And indeed she was right; perched on his shaggy mane, at a slight angle, was a bright red fez, complete with black tassel. Harry grinned like an idiot, turning to face her "I simply can't believe- oh, that actually works," she noted in surprise, finally getting a proper look at him. "Well I must say, you do have a taste for this, don't you? Now, might I ask your name?"

* * *

Over an hour later, Rarity finally left Starlit, muttering something about a crazy party pony and decorations. The grey pony now wore a simple light grey cloak, which was tied with a light green scarf, and which covered his lack of cutie mark. He didn't want to stand out, after all. He also wore thin, round glasses that fit him perfectly, and that rather stylish fez. He was quite a sight, but still didn't draw much attention to himself.

Starlit Cauldron (he was proud he had thought of that name) ambled through the streets, finally able to see without a distracting headache, and came across a pink pony, with an even pinker cotton-candy mane, and three balloons as a cutie mark. She seemed to spot the new colt as he approached, and took great care to announce that fact to the world with an incredible gravity defying gasp, before zooming off towards a treehouse of some description, disappearing inside.

That was another pony that Starlit liked. He always had hated the laws of physics, ever since he had tripped trying to get in the flying car last year, only to break his wrist. That pony wasn't a unicorn, but could still do magic of some description, and Starlit just had to learn how.

The green-eyed pony turned his attention towards his suddenly groaning stomach, blushing slightly and glancing around to make sure nobody had heard. Nobody had, so he went through a list of places in his mind. He didn't know of any cafes or restaurants yet, and he didn't feel he could fit in well enough to ask for directions again without breaking his cover.

That only left the farm on the outskirts of the village, Sweet Apple Acres from the sign.

With a jolt, Starlit realised that he didn't have any money to pay with, and Rarity had completely forgotten to ask for any, so he already had a debt of twenty bits. Judging by the price of tomatoes (two bits each), a bit was worth around fifty pence, or one fiftieth of a galleon. Not that it mattered, because he had no way of getting money, but it was nice to know exactly how much he needed to work off.

Trotting into the farm, Starlit could only pray that whoever owned this place was as helpful and understanding (or forgetful, at least) as the white unicorn had been. He spotted an orange pony and hurried to meet her, as she seemed to run the farm.

"Excuse me, I'm Starlit Cauldron and-" Starlit didn't know what he was about to say, but he was saved by a powerful handshake.

"Well howdy, Mister Cauldron! Pleasure meeting y'all this fine morning! What can ah do you for?" Suddenly a loud bang sounded from the barn house, and Applejack winced slightly. "Sorry 'bout the noise, Rainbow Dash is tearin' down the old barn so we kin rebuild before the Apple family reunion!"

Starlit followed the mare's gaze toward the rotting barn, out of which flew a faint ring of rainbow coloured dust. Protected by his new glasses, the grey stallion could just about make out a pale blue pegasus pony, who seemed to be attempting some sort of aerobatics. Applejack cleared up his unspoken question.

"Dash's been trying ta do a Sonic Rainboom, where she flies faster than th' speed of sound and makes a rainbow at the same time. It's-" she ducked as Rainbow dove down for a second attempt, and Starlit followed hurriedly. "It's not working yet."

* * *

Over three hours later, Starlit reluctantly followed Rainbow Dash to the pegasus' home in the clouds, where he had been invited to stay for the night. He had much to think about, such as weather magic, which Rainbow hadn't even come close to perfecting yet. All pegasi could walk on the clouds and fly, thanks to weather magic, but very few could create tornadoes and such at will.

Starlit's problem was with that 'magic' part. He couldn't do magic! He would step out onto the cloud, only to fall straight through it, and he wouldn't even be able to save himself with his wings, which were far too small for sustained magic-less flight, as he now realised.

So when Rainbow got fed up with the concrete-coloured pegasus and nudged him onto the cloud, Starlit snapped his eyes shut and braced himself for the fall that would come.

But it didn't.

Starlit opened one eye, to find his hooves firmly planted into the fluffy ground, giving him much more support than he would have thought possible from a house made of water. He opened the other eye and straightened his fez with one leg, chuckling sheepishly. "Sorry about that, I've never been able to use pegasus magic before. Guess I just needed a shock."

Rainbow just laughed it off, then straightened up and pointed borderline-arrogantly at herself. "Then how about I teach you the basics tomorrow? As the fastest flyer in Ponyville, I need someone as fast as me to race!"

Starlit nodded gratefully, and the rainbow-maned pony (he still couldn't believe it was natural, but hadn't said anything) led him up to the unused guest room. He collapsed on the bed, exhausted by the day's events, and was asleep instantly.

* * *

Then he woke up.

Looking around, Harry saw his human hands and legs, fingers and toes. He glanced at the barred window, and groaned when he remembered what today would be.

He discarded his adventure in Ponyville as a dream, not noticing a certain object sitting atop his head.

* * *

**Yes, this is quite confusing, but all shall be explained in next chapter's time skip. Or maybe the chapter after next will be the one with the time skip. Who knows? **

**Until then!**


	2. Flight

**Harry will have a special talent, but belonging to me isn't that talent.**

* * *

Harry sighed inaudibly. Aunt Marge's visit had worn away at him, starting the moment she had seen the red felt hat on his head. It wasn't all bad though; he had convinced his excessively stupid aunt and uncle that he would have to act the part of an 'incurably criminal boy', and he was given a lot of leeway, despite Vernon technically being in charge, what with the Hogsmeade slip and all.

So there he was, ignoring Vernon's shout for brandy and instead creating a subtle sleeping potion from soup ingredients. He added a teaspoon of crushed tomato seeds and stirred thrice clockwise, then sprinkled a pinch of salt in. He left it to simmer for ten seconds, before serving it as the soup it was supposed to be.

It wasn't a perfect copy, but Harry felt pleased with his handiwork. If it worked correctly, the victims wouldn't even notice falling asleep, instead thinking that time had simply flown by.

They would wake when Marge was due to leave, and feel a compulsion to check the time, so Harry was free to do... other things.

* * *

Three hours later, Harry had figured out many of the strange mechanics behind the land he now knew as Equestria.

For example, whenever he slept in one world, he woke in the other. He could get tired in both worlds, so he spent around twelve hours in each world per day.

The worlds seemed connected in time as well; if it was six in the morning in one world, it was six in the afternoon in the other. This meant Harry could schedule when to wake up in one world, simply by going to sleep at the corresponding time in the other.

Harry also apparently travelled between bodies, tested by giving his human self a painful papercut, then going to sleep and checking his pony self for said papercut. He didn't have it. He then gave his pony self a cut in a different place, then went back to his human body. Sure enough, the first cut was there, but the second one wasn't.

Harry stayed on earth for the rest of the day, not wanting Starlit to be too tired for the next day in Ponyville. He mostly spent it trying to understand how he now had a fez in both worlds, and failing miserably.

Eventually, it was time for Marge to leave, and Harry bolted downstairs to wave her off with a dangerous smirk, then turned to his uncle. "Well, Vernon, I think I've been well-behaved enough for the slip, right?"

Vernon snorted, turning a greyish-purple. "You actually believed that rubbish, did you? I won't sign that ruddy slip, you should be grateful you're here at all, boy!"

Harry smiled pityingly, and pulled out his wand. Somehow the Dursleys hadn't called his bluff by now, but that was probably helped along by the cake incident last summer. "If you sign it, I won't use this, and I'll even leave early, just for you."

Vernon seemed about to explode from the blood rushing to his head, but eventually he shrugged and silently pulled out a pen, signed the parchment, and handed it to Harry. "Get your things," he hissed, and Harry dashed upstairs, packed his things, grabbed Hedwig's empty cage and rushed outside.

A black shaggy dog stealthily trailed Harry, unseen as the boy plunged into a clump of bushes.

* * *

"Blimey mate, are you okay?" The concern showed in Ron's voice as the redhead snatched Harry's trunk from the blue, shivering twigs that would have once been recognisable as fingers.

Harry's only response was an unholy grin, which elicited a whine from the black dog next to him. "May I come in? English weather and all that."

Ron blinked, before sighing deeply, then bowing even deeper. "You may, Mr Potter." That earned him a slap on the back of the head, but Harry hissed in pain as his frozen fingers went into contact with the boy.

Since meeting Padfoot, as he decided to call the dog, Harry's daily timetable had been something along the lines of wake up, travel with Padfoot (mostly through the rain), hunt for food, cook food, eat food, go to sleep, train in weather magic with Rainbow Dash, eat a lunch of daisy sandwiches, train in defying physics with Pinkie Pie, party, wake up, repeat.

Strangely, Padfoot always seemed to look at Harry weirdly when the boy woke up.

The starving boy put all that out of his mind, though, and just walked through the front door of the Burrow, trailing mud and rainwater into the hallway. Ron called up the stairs, "Mum! Harry's here!" and a redheaded woman materialised, before gasping, stripping a resigned Harry down to his mercifully dry boxers, shoving him in the direction of the bathroom, and starting on a humongous meal for the 'poor darling', cursing the Dursleys all the while.

* * *

When Harry finally left the bathroom, it was to a note, written in scribbles, rather than the black dog he had expected. "Dear Harry," he read aloud, "Sorry I can't stay, but I would be recognised around these parts. Somepony is already on the lookout for me, even as i write this (with magic). Don't worry, we'll meet again. From Padfoot."

Ron, who had listened slightly, furrowed his brows. "Wait, did you say 'somepony?'"

Harry panicked as he realised his mistake, and he confounded those ponies for a second, before answering, raising an eyebrow at the boy. "Some_body_, Ron, ponies don't have anything to do with it." Harry was careful to sound exasperated, as if Ron had misheard, and he managed it well, if Ron's sheepish grin was anything to go by.

At supper, Ron asked Harry if he'd been to Diagon Alley yet, to which the boy replied negative. "Oh, okay then. We were going to go tomorrow, so I was wondering."

The rest of supper was fairly awkward, as it tends to be when you show up uninvited and half dead on someone's doorstep. Just as Harry felt he couldn't take the silence anymore, the door sprung open, revealing an extremely harassed-seeming Arthur Weasley.

Panting heavily, the father of many faced the two at the table. "Sorry boys, I've gotta dash. Harry's disappeared from Privet Drive apparently, no idea what he was thinking, it's been days since he left and Black's out there!" With that, the man disappeared behind the door, leaving it slightly ajar.

Ron smirked. "Three, two, one..." The door slammed against the wall, propelled by Arthur's shaking hand.

"Harry!" The man visibly calmed himself, then straightened slightly. "I'm not even going to ask why you thought walking here was a good idea, this makes my job so much easier." He left, and Harry took a moment to swallow a bit of mash.

"Your dad's awesome."

Ron grinned. "I know."

* * *

The rest of the night was spent chatting with Ron, filling the wide-eyed teen in on how he survived the wild without using magic. The redhead's tales were far tamer, but that time he backhanded the makeshift Quaffle into the centre goal was fun to hear about.

Harry was impressed, and he showed it. "You should try for the team," he said honestly, but Ron shook his head sadly.

"Wouldn't want to overshadow your one magical talent," he sighed, but Harry could tell that wasn't the reason at all. He let it drop, though, changing the subject to that of classes.

"Who do you think will be the DADA Professor this year?"

Ron became considerably more animated, and the next few hours were spent offering ludicrous suggestions.

"It'll be Tom Riddle, obviously," Harry smirked, imagining a snake-human hybrid wearing a mortar board.

Ron did him one better. "The dead Basilisk, of course, it'd be the best Defence teacher so far!" The peppy Gryffindor glanced up at Harry, then frowned a little. "What's with the hat, anyway?"

* * *

"Rise and shine, Starry!"

Starlit groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and absently wondering how Pinkie could stand on the clouds, before he pushed that aside for a better question. "Why are you here, Pinkie?"

The pink earth pony bounced on the clouds in anticipation. "Well, Rainbow Dash has to work this morning, so we switched places! Now I'll teach you to defy gravity!"

The grey colt blinked, then grinned. Gravity was the force of the universe(s) that he hated the most, thanks to the car incident. "Right, how do I start!"

"Well, the trick with physics is that they can't be ignored, like a baby without candy, so you have to trick them, like giving the baby sugar-free candy! Since gravity says that you have to be supported by something, you just have to know that your hooves are always supporting you!" She stepped out of the room's single window to demonstrate, and nodded in satisfaction at the perfect results

Starlit blinked, swallowed heavily and nodded, then turned towards the window and stepped out, onto thin air, wobbling a little. "Wowie, you're a natural! Even better than I was at first!" Pinkie yelled, waving a foam finger in the air wildly. "Now you just have to do the offscreen superspeed walk while defying gravity, and you can go ANYWHERE!"

The last word sent all birds nearby into the air, but Starlit was well used to it by now, and simply beamed in pride. He was finally learning proper magic, although not the kind he was used to, so how could he not be quietly proud?

He may not like fame due to a failed killing curse, but a little attention about something he had actually done never harmed anyone.

Eventually, it was time for a quick break and lunch. Starlit decided to change his diet a bit as a reward for himself, just for today, and ordered a meal-sized cupcake, which was gone within three seconds.

* * *

Rainbow Dash was a good teacher for Starlit, excessively practical and holding little value in books. Both ponies were natural fliers, and to the grey pegasus' surprise, both were second nature in using weather magic. Rainbow used it mostly for the contrails that always followed her, along with extra speed and special effects.

Starlit's combination of natural weather mage and Hermione's friend had led him to experiment in various parts of the magic, such as air currents. Rainbow already knew of these changes in the air, but she never used them to her advantage, instead deeming them a challenge to overcome.

Once the two drew in a race, however, that quickly changed. Rainbow almost began hyperventilating over being an 'egghead', reminding the Pony-Who-Lived of Ron. So Starlit simply treated her the same, dangling the answers over her head, using competition to spark the athlete's own mind. He rivalled Hermione in the theoretical side of magic, after all, and he was far more talented in trickery.

By the time the Equestria day ended, Rainbow had once again risen above and beyond Starlit, and with that achievement came another.

"Who's awesome? I'm awesome!" Rainbow held out a mug of apple cider, secretly amazed at her own ability. Starlit could tell that she was grateful, but didn't know how to say it, so he smiled and tapped the cup with his own, clumsily held one.

The Sonic Rainboom had been an incredible sight for Starlit, who had actually _felt_ the weather magic. He didn't just know it was there; unlike wizard magic, he could feel the charge in the air!

This must be what students felt at Hogwarts, he mused idly, before another question overtook his mind. What would his 'Sonic Starboom' look like?

* * *

The next morning, Harry packed up his things for the trip to Diagon, muttering incoherently about cold hoo- _fingers_ as he did so. Being a pony had quickly shifted the boy's vocabulary towards ponydom, as he hadn't had a reason to think in human terms in the past, with nopo- _body_ to speak to.

Harry decided to start using pony language around his friends once they got to Hogwarts, and chalk it up to a failed Animagus attempt. After all, it was common knowledge that Harry wanted that particular brand of magic.

Maybe soon the green eyed boy would tell his friends the truth. Not that they'd ever believe him, except perhaps Luna, but it would get a load off his chest.

Speaking of Equestria, Harry was fairly certain by now that it wasn't, in fact, some sort of dream world. In all his previous dreams, the only pain he'd felt had been a pulsing headache, emanating from his scar, even when his dream-body was sliced apart in an alternate outcome of the fight with Quirrel. In the pony world, he felt every single papercut, By his logic, this meant that Equestria was actually some kind of alternate dimension, which by some miracle only he could get to.

Maybe everypony there could travel between the two worlds, but Harry felt his miracle theory was right. After all, he lived for miracles. Literally, too, thanks to the killing curse mishap in 1981.

The thing that made Harry truly believe that Equestria wasn't a dream were the contents. Happy, playful ponies. That was all that needed to be said in Harry's mind, as the boy's dreams were nothing if not terrifying, and Equestria was the complete opposite of all that.

Having finally finished the packing of his trunk, Harry sat back to rest for a moment, then picked up the immensely heavy trunk one handed and headed downstairs to set off.

* * *

Harry hated this part. He had to go through the Floo network to get to Diagon Alley. The boy absolutely loathed magical travel. None of it seemed to agree with him, whether it was side-along apparition, as had been attempted to get to Diagon Alley last year (Molly and he had ended up in Knockturne), or a simple _Mobilicorpus _(it simply didn't work, just bouncing off him), none of it seemed to work properly for him.

According to Professor Dumbledore, the problem was caused by Harry's unique... brand, for lack of a better term, of magic. Mobilicorpus worked by using the wizard's aura of magic to help with the levitation, rather than fight it. Harry didn't have an aura, so it had no effect. The apparition was more difficult to explain, but Harry's magic caused some sort of disruption, like passing light through water would alter its path.

Harry didn't want to end up wherever this fireplace would take him, because it almost certainly wasn't Diagon.

Fred and George were behind, snickering at the odd hat the Harry wore, while a certain pompous Weasley snorted in disdain.

He said the name clearly, just a quick "Diagon Alley!" and with a step into the green flames, the boy was off, going wherever his magic felt like.

Which was high. Exceptionally high. Higher than a broomstick could go, higher than even most planes could travel.

And then he fell, toppling out of the air as he tried to gain his footing on... What, exactly? It wasn't like he could just land on a plane; there weren't any this high up and by the time there were, he'd be travelling fast enough to become a once-living pancake. Down below, he could see lines of blue, but if he landed in a river he'd just hit the bottom, break his neck and drown. He couldn't just land on the ground, obviously; he'd be reduced to puree.

With water and earth crossed off, Harry turned to the air. That seemed like obvious doom, and he should have rightly crossed that off the list and thought on the other elements a little more. But he didn't, and instead came up with a crazy and unorthodox, but mostly just stupid plan.

The Boy-Who-Lived-A-Squib pondered his idea. Weather magic was released through the wings of a pegasus, and he didn't have wings here, so he just concentrated on those strange things humans had instead of hooves, spreading his arms and legs to give himself the highest possible air resistance.

Tears forming and being swept behind him, harry incredulously noted the stream of cloud trailing his four limbs. Less than a second later, he slowed to a crawl, still falling, but far slower than before. Having confirmed that his human magic was actually pegasus magic, he steered over to a dark cloud and landed, barely noticing the huge voltage flowing through his veins as he lay, sinking into the fluff a little.

Maybe he should have picked Lightning Dust or something as a name.

After a ten minute rest, and another ten of searching for the trunk (it had inexplicably failed to fall through the clumps of gaseous water), Harry set to work getting down.

This being Harry, who had just found out that he wasn't the Boy-Who-Squibbed, he had to make this look amazing. He could save himself from falling now that he knew his weather magic worked, so he had no qualms making it look awesome.

* * *

**Boom. Instant cliffhanger.**

**Don't worry, I'll start on the next chapter right away.**

**Next time, Diagon Alley! If Harry lives through his stunt, at least.**


	3. Natural

**Feelzcopter inbound. Feelzcopter also doesn't belong to me.**

* * *

Crushing the fez onto his head with one hand and grappling the heavyweight trunk in the other, Harry dove headfirst towards the ground. He summoned his weather magic, gathering it around him into the shape of an arrow, and began steering towards a downward current. He knew that things like this never worked the first time, but he simply couldn't help trying the Sonic Starboom... Sonic Starburst? That sounded better...

This wasn't the time to name things, however, so the Gryffindor focussed all his effort into maintaining the cone of magic around him, projected from an outstretched hand. Hours seemed to pass as he plummeted, tears leaking through his closed eyes, but he sped up, ignoring the screams from his body to stop.

He had a backup body, after all, and that one had _wings_!

Harry could safely say he was close as the ground raced up to meet him. One mile per hour faster would have done it, but he simply didn't have enough magic. He hadn't been accelerating at all at the end; it had taken all his energy just to stay intact at that speed, let alone go faster!

Harry reflected on his performance as he pushed magic underneath him, slowing down enough to simply float towards the earth. All in all, it went well for a first try. Not perfectly, but even Dashie had never done a Rainboom before yesternight.

Seriously, living extra days during the night made time phrases hard to use.

Finally landing on solid ground, Harry glanced around the street, noting the stares and wishing very much to sink through the ground. A little attention? Fine, he could even enjoy that.

A whole street-full of attention? Hay no.

It wasn't exactly made any better by Harry's reputation as a squib, especially as he could see some classmates in the mix.

Harry ducked into The Leaky Cauldron, where the Weasleys had told him to wait in case something went awry, and checked in with Tom, before sitting at a nearby table and shutting his eyes.

* * *

"Harry, wake up!"

Starlit stopped her practicing of the Starburst, suddenly realising that it would wake everypony if he did manage it, and searched for this voice, before he had a distinct feeling of being rattled, and a sudden exhaustion.

He had wondered about this, actually, and it appeared that whenever his other body was disturbed, the one he was in would somehow become tired, forcing him to make the switch.

That could be dangerous if it happened in the middle of a fight, or a flight for that matter, but for now it wasn't a problem. Grumbling about lack of practice, a dizzy Starlit took three attempts to fly in through Dashie's house's window, rather than bouncing off the clouds, thanks to everything moving.

As soon as he plopped onto the bed and woke up, his brain put two and two together. "Please never shake me awake again. It's disorientating."

Arthur seemed a little apathetic, but Ron shrugged apologetically. "Sorry mate, but what happened? Everyone outside thought you could fly for some reason!"

"That's because I can," the boy grinned, garnering many stunned looks from the family. "Turns out I'm not a complete squib after all!" The rest just stared at him, so he continued. "I turned up really high above Diagon Alley, so to get down I landed on a cloud, then flew down!"

It was a mark to the wackiness of the wizarding world that Ron took this information in his stride. "Now you don't even need a broom for Quidditch, mate. I, on the other hand-"

"No, you aren't having my broom," Harry smirked, derailing that train of thought before it set off for Reality-Ville.

* * *

The first shop that Harry and company entered was, as per usual, Madam Malkin's. The aforementioned woman hurried over to the family, Harry Potter included in all but name, and bustled the children onto platforms, where she mercilessly measured them. For some odd reason, the shop owner seemed to take far more time with Harry, seeming almost as though she was trying to discreetly measure things behind his back, whatever reason she had for that.

After Malkin left, the students relaxed from their stiff poses and breathed out in relief. Having revealed his magic to the rest already, Harry practiced bouncing a ball of yarn around with small clouds, created from the water vapour in his breath. Arthur, Molly, Percy and the twins watched in awe as the boy broke the Underage Magic law, by now juggling six balls using only clouds, without any repercussions whatsoever.

After what felt like (and probably were) hours, Madam Malkin returned, carrying several sets of robes, all brand new, as Harry had pooled his savings in for the Weasleys, to much protesting from Molly. He had countered that they were essentially family anyway, so the money should rightfully belong to her anyway. Not how it worked in real life, but very convincing nonetheless.

Harry was surprised to find his robes a little... thinner than usual. Madam Malkin, in a rare act of humour, simply winked and said something about 'minor adjustments to suit certaian needs'. The boy was confused that that had been funny for Arthur, and earned a minor glare from Molly. He assumed it was an in-joke, and just ignored Ron's green face, which rivalled the intensity of Vernon's purple-and-a-half mode.

Next came the Apothecary, which currently smelt somewhere between petrol and burnt toast. Not a winning combination, but Harry was eager to take a look around regardless. He pulled out a notepad and sharpened stick of graphite, circling the store a few times, mumbling and picking out ingredients. This didn't attract so many strange looks as it had last year, as the shopkeepers and even some customers knew him well enough by now; the living Potions book.

What they didn't know was Harry's goal: to finally brew an 'Animagus' Potion. Usually the transformation was brought on by a lot of Transfiguration training, but there was a single documented case of the potion working- that of somepo-_body_ called Rebecca Smyth, who had, according to eyewitnesses, become something with hooves. Not that it was much of a description.

Immediately Harry had made a connection to Starlit's world, and set about creating a similar potion, filling in gaps between the known ingredients. Now, all he had to do was buy all the supplies. Which would be a pretty high price, if the skrewt-nettle leaves were anything to go by.

More than fifty Galleons lighter, Harry finally left the store, glancing into the bag of ingredients more often than a kid who had been told they could only eat their candy later.

* * *

"An' Dumbledore leads with a glare to th' left! A quick glance to th' right! Oh, it'sa clean shot! But th' mod'fied muggle toy stays spinnin' by a miracle, counterin' with a spin! An' another! An' ano-"

"Hagrid," Dumbledore spoke, turning to the half-giant, a vein popping discreetly on his forehead. "I am attempting to-"

"An' the winner of th' firs' ever official Hogwar's no-hol's-barred staring contes' is the muggle toy!"

"Hagrid!" the elderly wizard snapped, and the soon-to-be Professor bowed his head in shame, despite shaking with barely suppressed laughter. Dumbledore sighed and stood from his non-rocking chair. "I suppose I have obsessed over this little thing a little much," he confessed with a chuckle, but Hagrid raised a bushy eyebrow.

"If yeh call twenny-four hours straigh' a little much, then yeah."

Dumbledore massaged his temples, attempting to remove the imprint of the spinning gyroscope from his mind. "I know, Hagrid, but I mustn't let my guard down. After the past two years, I believe I have a right to lose a little sleep over this, especially after that prophesy by Sybill." Hagrid seemed about to interrupt incredulously, so the Supreme Mugwump continued. "Yes, I am aware that the nature of Prophecies dooms them to inaccuracy more often than not, but-"

"Headmaster," Hagrid growled imperiously, dropping his accent like a hot potato in favour of unhindered English, "I think you should have lunch with the rest of the staff, now."

The old man winced slightly at the force of the final word, then nodded slowly, already following the keeper of keys down to the staff room.

In a fit of irony, the magical detector took that opportunity to flash pink, then switched to a light blue, before sputtering out and rolling to a stop, teetering on the very edge of the desk. With a gust of air probably caused by Fate, the gyroscope toppled to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces as it made contact.

Wizard-made detectors were pure garbage when it came to durability.

* * *

It was early afternoon, two o'clock at the latest, when the group's shopping was interrupted by a frustrated scream, and the bang of somepo-one's shoe making contact with brick. A few similar bangs later, and Harry turned a corner to spot a teenage girl, probably the same age as him, by the look of it, sitting on the cracked pavement with pain etched onto her face.

That alone would have seemed strange, at least for the human world, but the full story was told by the girl's hairstyle.

Or it would have been, but Harry couldn't quite place his finger on it. It was pure white, long and a little spiky, with a short fringe that did nothing to hide the powerful glare on her face. It reminded him of someone, but he couldn't figure it-

"Horsefeathers."

Harry's eyes widened a little, before he removed every trace of emotion from his face and held out a hand, which she took gratefully. He hauled her up looked her right in the eyes, a deep shade of purple, and spoke softly.

"I always knew you dyed it, Dashie."

The once-pegasus paled a little, but as she turned her eyes upwards a little, the sight of a gleaming felt hat had her whimpering in abject horror, rivalling even Fluttershy's freak outs. "Star..." Trailing off, Rainbow Dash hid behind her hair and fidgeted, unable to speak in her fear, unable to run away on the two longer and two shorter legs, unable to fly without wings. Then she did something that Harry had never thought possible of her.

She meeped. Terrified and trembling, she sniffed, eyes watering, before closing her eyes and letting the tears fall.

Quite honestly, Harry didn't have a clue what to do, but he pulled the girl in and hugged her close, and she silently sobbed into his shoulder for well over three hours, whispering something that Harry couldn't quite hear the entire time.

The boy didn't know why the former pegasus' hair colour had caused such a reaction, but frankly, unless Rainbow wanted to talk about it, he couldn't care less. All he needed to know was that his friend needed him.

Shifting to stand behind Rainbow, but still snuggling with her, Harry led her towards an utterly bemused Arthur, and Molly, who had broken down in tears more than once, just from seeing the tearful reunion. He gestured them closer, then whispered, "Could you colour-change her hair into a rainbow, please?"

They both nodded, and after a little synchronised wand-waving, Rainbow once again sported her namesake. Sniffling and spouting apologies, she smiled briefly, before Harry led her to the Leaky Cauldron, as she really needed the rest right now.

They were later found in a bed in the Leaky Cauldron, Rainbow curled into a ball, with Harry's arms wrapped protectively around her. Pinkie found Star and Equestrian Dash in the same position, shrugged, and gave her favourite student a day off to comfort their friend.

* * *

**In comes the feelzcopter. All your feelz have been delivered.**

**I didn't intend for any of this to happen when I started writing, it was going to be a simple 'Harry has 2 lives, befriends the mane six and beats voldemort' kind of plot.**

**I am so glad that I have such a randomised mind, or my stories would be nowhere close to as fun, either to read (if I do say so myself) or write.**

**Please excuse me to take care of this other plot bunny I found.**


	4. Blizzard (reupload)

**Damn, I'm an idiot. Sorry for uploading the wrong chapter, here's the proper one. Harry Potter and MLP do not belong to me.**

* * *

"You're a famous magical human from this world and you can't do magic but you need to defeat an evil lord who wants to kill you and has already tried three times and when you went to sleep one night you woke up in Equestria as a pony and then you found Rarity who gave you that fez and a scarf and a cloak and then you figured out how the worlds linked together and you got lessons from me and Dashie and then you ran away from the Dursleys and you were followed by a dog called Padfoot who left a letter when you got to Ronnie's house and then you came here to get school stuff and you found Rainbow Dash who didn't have any oh wait I pinkie promised not to talk about that!"

While his friends minus Pinkie were attempting to catch flies, at both the accuracy of her statements and the lack of punctuation, Harry nodded, not bothering to question how Pinkie had appeared, but secretly hoping to learn that particular skill in the near future. "Yeah, that seems about right, but you forgot the basilisk, Quirrel and Lockhart."

Rainbow, whom Harry had previously calmed down from the long sleep-in, finally found her voice, only to splutter, "How did you even know all that?!"

"Just a hunch!" Pinkie's nonchalant response left Hermione ranting about the laws of probability, until Ron slammed a hand on the table, then pointed towards the raven haired boy.

It took well over three hours to explain fully about his lives as both Harry and Starlit, and by that time even the pink one was staring in absolute horror. That might have had something to do with the previous year.

Finally, Ron broke the stunned silence, with an incredibly calm voice, given the subject matter. "The basilisk stabbed you in the stomach?"

Harry shrugged and nodded, and nobody or pony could even tell if he cared "It hurt," he stated, whining as if the the injury had been nothing more than a pin-prick. "Healed up nicely, though, thanks to Fawkes." He raised his baggy t-shirt, revealing a bright red circle of raised scar tissue, on the left hand side of his body. It looked incredibly painful, but Harry didn't even bat an eyelid as he prodded it a couple of times.

Rainbow had a sudden, terrifying thought. She stood Harry up from the table they were sat at, spun him on the spot, and lifted up the gigantic t-shirt, not daring to look. From the two horrified gasps and the hiss from Ron, however, she could tell what they had seen. Opening her eyes proved all she needed to know.

On a red-faced Harry's back, behind the first scar, was an identical one, which glimmered just as angrily in the sunlight. The Boy-Who-Lived-Through-The-Impossible wrenched down his over-large top, spun back round, and collapsed onto the seat with a resigned sigh.

"Okay, fine, it was slightly more than a stab," he confessed grumpily. He hadn't wanted them to figure that out, but there was no helping it.

"You were run through by an angry, poisonous, twenty foot long snake," Hermione deadpanned, her snarkiness a factor of her shock.

"At least now I have a proper reason to thank Dobby," Harry reasoned. "The little bugger did try to stop me from getting injured."

"Yeah, by getting you injured," Dash exclaimed, pointing at his right arm, which had entirely different bones than it had had in year one of Hogwarts. The budding potion master sighed, annoyed at her accusation, but glad to finally have the old Dash back.

A faint flapping that Harry instantly recognised sounded, and the raven-haired teen automatically held out an arm for the owls to perch on. He took the letters and thanked the two birds, glancing down at the spindly green writing as they flew off.

_'Pinkamena D Pie,'_

_'Blizzard Dash,'_

* * *

"We're going to Hogwarts! Yippie!"

That cry was obviously Pinkie's; she had been yelling the same thing at random intervals for the entire day, but somehow it never got boring. Two people, however, weren't looking forward to the new year.

Rainbow Dash and Harry Potter were sitting down with the others in the Leaky Cauldron, but Harry's hand whizzed across a piece of parchment, scrawling out a carefully worded letter to the headmaster. He finished in record time, popping the lid back on his bottle of ink and palming it, before tying the letter to a waiting owl's leg. "Let nobody see this," he muttered, and the owl nodded decisively, turning to take off through the window.

"Thanks, Harry," Dash murmured as she watched the bird go, obviously restless in her own inability to fly. Harry squeezed her with an arm, silently reminding her that it was only a little longer, and she nodded almost imperceptibly.

Having done all that needed to be done, Harry stood, garnering the attention of his friends and family. "I'm going to turn in for the night," he told them, and slowly made his way to the stairs, Dash following discreetly behind, hidden by a disillusionment charm cast by Hermione.

* * *

A tapping sounded at the office window, and Dumbledore swivelled to let the beautiful tawny inside. It rested on a perch and held its leg out, and the elderly headmaster took the letter, dismissing the bird with a simple 'thank you'.

_'Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'_

Wondering who could possibly by writing to him before the school year even began, Dumbledore tore open the letter and began to read, bugged by the strangely familliar handwriting.

_'Dear Headmaster,_

_"Blizzard Dash" has changed her name to Rainbow Dash. Change it._

_Harry.'_

The most powerful wizard alive chuckled at the Boy-Who-Lived's attitude and set to changing the records for Ms Rainbow Dash, absently handing the letter to Fawkes and asking him to forward it to Minerva.

It was hilarious. She had to see it.

* * *

**A short chapter, but writers' block doesn't play fair.**

**In answer to a recent question, Harry's magic affects transportation magic like water affects light. He essentially refracted the Floo magic into the sky, and it transported him there.**


End file.
